


Breaking the Firewall

by AliceAvis



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Tadashi Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceAvis/pseuds/AliceAvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiro struggles to find answers while Tadashi lies in a hospital bed, in a coma that he may or may not wake up from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, another "Tadashi lives" AU that a million people have probably already done lol. But here's my spin on things. I just love making things sadder and angstier than they already are xD. Anyways, warning for language and mild violence/blood/gore. Things will most likely get more intense, so I rated it M just to be safe.
> 
> I want this fic to be fairly long, so expect updates once a week (hopefully lol).
> 
> Enjoy <3

"Somebody has to help."

Why does that somebody always have to be you? Why can't it be he or she or them or anyone, anyone else? Why can't it be the people gaping wide-eyed at the flames that rise like skyscrapers? Or the ones crouched on the pavement, staring at nothing. Well, not really nothing. Maybe they're staring at the specks in the sidewalk or the tiny weeds that poke out of the cracks. Whatever they're staring at, it's not helping.

No one is helping.

No one but you.

And you let go of his shoulder. The indent of your hand still there. He feels it in his collar bone as you take the steps two at a time and disappear into the university. And he's just wondering, like, why does it have to be you?

Why do you have to go running, Tadashi?

You don't even have your hat. It's still falling when you make it inside, it's rocking on the pavement when he hears the noise that tells him something's about to happen. You know, that noise. You hear it every morning when the alarm goes off. Right before it freaks out and dances across the nightstand. He hates that sound, 'cause he's sleeping and dreaming about his next bot fight. Yeah, yeah, he knows that he's different now. He's gonna be a college student like you and he's gonna wake up when the alarm clock flips out and you'll go to school together on the back of your Vespa. Your legs are so much longer than his, but you'll get there at the same time. You'll run to class instead of running from the cops. Pretty lame, huh?

Yeah. It is pretty lame. At least, now it is.

Because you just had to help. Now your hat's lying on the ground. There's orange and red thrown all over the sidewalk. This isn't another experiment. No one's safe behind a pair of plastic goggles. He's running after you, he's thrown back and listening to the sound of broken glass. Windows pop, fire balloons out of every door, every opening. The explosion turns everything red.

The sidewalk, the steps, his eyes, your hat. That's all he has left now, huh? Your hat was smart enough to stay behind. You didn't stay, though. Nothing did. Not your hands, your ears, your legs, your heart.

You were the biggest nerd ever. But you weren't smart enough to stay behind. And now you're the fabled "somebody" and everyone will say you're a hero. You're the hero that helped, but you're also the hero that's de—no, no, you're not really dead.

Not really.

But next time you say, "Somebody has to help", why don't you hold back? Why don't you sit this one out? Hiro's sure that somebody else will help. That there's a million other somebodies out there. It doesn't always have to be you.

You listening, Tadashi?

 

"Professor Callaghan, can you hear me?"

He's in. In a different context, that would sound profound, almost comical. If Tadashi was a hacker in a cheap film this would be the big scene, the final cyber confrontation between the lone whitehat hacker and the evil megacorporation. "I'm in," he says as he smashes through the firewall. Now he just sounds stupid. But it's all he can do to keep himself sane. When you're basically being swallowed alive by fire, you have to stay calm.

He's in, running across the show floor and watching the inventions burst into flame. There's sweat rolling down his face, tufts of hair stuck to his neck. Shit, his hat's gone. It must be outside with Hiro. He turns around for half a second, just to make sure Hiro's not there.

There's no one behind him. Just fire. More and more fire. It's getting hotter, flames jumping across the ceiling and the floor. He squints and tries to shield his eyes, everything's so bright. Metal, plastic, cobalt, hydrogen peroxide, all of it burns around him. Prototype bots, mag lev bikes, precision lasers and tiny microbots that hit him in the back of the head.

The hell? These are Hiro's. They're flying past, crawling across the floor. He turns around again, just to make sure he's not there.

He's not.

But someone else is. It's hard to see through the smoke, but he can see them and he knows they're alive. It all happens so fast. There goes that sound that tells him someone's about to get hurt. The building lurches, he keeps running towards whoever that is.

"Hey! Hey, can you hear me! We can get you out, okay? Just hang on!" He almost trips. More microbots are spinning across the tile. They sound like insects or like some giant flock of birds. Clattering, biting at his heels as they're drawn together. Faster, louder, hotter. Hotter as the flames turn blue and red, red like that shirt his little brother always wears, wears even when it's dirty and Aunt Cass has to wrestle it out of his hands, hands scratched by microbots and pieces of debris, debris raining down because something's about to happen, happen so fast that he realizes just how long he's been in here, here inside this burning building.

He's in.

Whoever it is turns towards him. Whoever it is looks him in the eye.

"Professor Callaghan?"

There's something against his back. The feeling just before the alarm clock goes off, the bated breath just before the hacker breaks the wall.

And then it's gone, and he's gone, and he's in.

Somehow, he's in.

 

Tadashi's not in the ground. People say that Hiro should be thankful. He should be grateful. Because it could be worse, and at least his brother is alive and breathing, even if he is breathing with the help of a machine. The tubes and wires stick out of his mouth, his skin. Whenever Hiro goes to visit, a nurse always reminds him not to touch anything. He wants to roll his eyes. It's common sense that he shouldn't touch the beeping machines and clear tubes full of liquid. Who does the nurse think he is, some kind of idiot? He's won dozens of bot fights, graduated high school at thirteen, and created something that's going to change the world.

Scratch that. It was going to change the world, but now the microbots are all destroyed. They were burnt to a crisp in the fire, along with most of Tadashi. And Hiro doesn't even know how to feel about it. Sitting cross-legged in the hospital chair, he stares at the person in the bed. It doesn't even look like Tadashi. Bandages all over, laced up the injured arms and legs. Beneath all the creams and coverings, Hiro can see red, blistered skin. If he squints, he can see black markings on one of his legs. Again, this doesn't look like Tadashi. This can't be the same brother that wore baseball caps and said "Unbelievable" every time Hiro said something stupid.

A brief list of the stupidest things Hiro has ever said:

"Bot fighting isn't illegal."

"What, so I can go to college like you and learn about things I already know?"

"But if you go, who's going to help me?"

That last one's a fake, a grade A phony. It's something he should have said when Tadashi looked into the fire. Maybe that would have kept him from running.

There's no point in thinking that way, though. Not only do people tell him to be thankful, they also tell him pointless shit like "it's not your fault". These pointless units of information, all stored up in people's heads and spewed out for no reason. They're like robots. They stand there and smile and tell Hiro things he already knows. He knows it's not his fault. He knows he couldn't have stopped Tadashi. He knows he didn't start the fire.

That question still burns in his brain. It bothers him in the middle of the night. When he's lying awake, fully clothed, looking from the ceiling to the paper screen. Behind it, Tadashi's hat sits on the untouched bed. It just sits there, gathering dust.

Today Hiro's the one gathering dust. He's sitting in the hospital, room 214, scrunched up in the chair that's all right angles and hard lines. The plastic seat covering squeaks every time he moves. Which is a lot, since nothing about this place is comfortable. Aunt Cass is working. Tending tables is like tending people, she can manage the café and close up every night, a smile on her face. Because she knows she can take care of that place. She can't take care of Tadashi right now, and sometimes she can't even take care of Hiro. He leaves his plate of food on the windowsill. Untouched. Just like Tadashi's bed.

The nurses and doctors are used to him now. He visits almost every day. There's not much to do, but it's better than sitting at home, staring at that paper screen.

Something beeps. Hiro looks up from his bot, the kick ass one that used to win all those fights. It's a good distraction, gives him something to do. He almost dropped it on his foot once. Back home, when he was flipping through books and letters for no reason, looking at the blank computer and trying not to glance at the paper screen. He knocked the stupid thing off the shelf and it clattered to the ground. Geez, that was close. He almost said "ow".

But his foot's fine. Both of them are perfectly fine. Tucked away in his untied sneakers, they feel so numb and cold. Hospitals are like that. They seep into everything, even your shoes, and they turn your toes to ice cubes. He stands up, leaving the bot in the chair. Tadashi's bed looks the most uncomfortable out of everything. Straight and white, it probably feels like sleeping on concrete.

"Hey." Hiro sits on the very edge. Don't forget, the nurse said not to touch anything. "I, uh, just came to say hi. Again. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm here every day. I wake up early and everything, which is crazy, I know, but I haven't been bot fighting so I have time to do other stuff. Like sleep, and think about certain things…"

He flexes his fingers. There's nothing there, just empty air.

"I know I talk about it a lot, but I want to know what happened in there. Callahan's dead. You're alive. I've been doing research and I don't understand how you're okay." His eyes are suddenly hot with tears. "But you're not okay. You almost died and no one knows if you'll even wake up. And I don't know whose fault it is, but it's somebody's. Fires don't start themselves."

It's the first time he's said it out loud. That buzzing in the back of his head. Accidents happen all the time, but this is too coincidental, too constructed. He shows his microbots to a wide-eyed crowd, a business man tries to buy him out, and hundreds of faceless people walk by. It could be any of them, it could be all of them.

Paranoia walks in. It always shows up at the most inconvenient time. Muted fluorescents blink overhead, throwing flashes of light across Tadashi's body. The machine keeps beeping, the doctors and nurses move through the white hallways. And Hiro sits at the edge of the bed, his thoughts spinning, his fingers pulling at a thread on his jacket. They could be anywhere. They could be anyone. He'll find them, they can't hide forever.

"I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to cut this visit short." A doctor stands in the doorway. She moves to the foot of the bed, putting a hand on Hiro's shoulder. "We need to get your brother into the OR, that's the—"

"Operating room. Yeah, I know." Hiro doesn't move. "No one told me he was being operated on today."

"Your aunt was informed last week."

"Okay, well, my aunt isn't me."

She pats his shoulder. God, that's annoying. "You've already been through a lot, a child your age shouldn't have to worry about things like this. Just go home and talk to your aunt."

"Why can't you tell me what's going on? I have a right to know."

That sigh sounds so fake, so forced. The doctor's face is blank but her eyes are full of something… worry? Fear? "Now I've upset you. Trust me, your brother is in good hands. We'll take care of him, now go home to your aunt. It'll be dark soon."

Now there are two nurses around the bed. One of them easing Hiro up, the other unplugging different wires and devices.

"Wait…" He doesn't even know what's happening. People file in, give him small smiles or nothing at all. He should have been gone hours ago, but no one has the heart to force a grieving kid out. He's being ushered out, his legs moving without him. Head tilted back, he tries to find Tadashi. But his brother's buried under a sea of white coats and blue scrubs.

"Wait… wait, what are you doing to him? What surgery? No one told me about a surgery!"

They're shushing him. "Hey, kid, everything's going to be okay."

"We're going to help your brother."

"Don't worry, everything's fine."

No, everything is not fine. Sugar coated words taste like shit, gentle hands feel like knives. Poking and prodding until he's outside in the waiting room. Until someone is calling his Aunt Cass and whispering, "He shouldn't have come today. Damnit, didn't anyone notice he was still here? You can't expose a kid to stuff like this."

And that's the worst part. Hiro can handle the words "operating room", he can handle bandages and beeping machines. But when they push him aside and call him kid, he doesn't know what to say. In the bot fighting underground, no one ever took him seriously until he proved himself. It's fun, to see their faces contort as they realize just how good he is, but it gets old. Having to prove yourself gets old fast. Now these white coats and blue scrubs won't tell him what's going on. Because he's a kid, because he can't handle stuff like this. Screw them, he's won dozens of bot fights, graduated high school at thirteen, and created something… something, he's created something… graduated at fourteen… no, that's not right… just shut up and listen, he's done stuff, but… but he can't handle stuff like this.

The nurse on the phone lowers his voice, "Yes, ma'am. Your nephew's surgery was scheduled for today. We told you tha—okay, well clearly a mistake has been made. We're so—yes, your other nephew is here—we're sorry for the confusion. We'll keep an eye on him until you get here. Goodb—what? Oh, yes, the surgeon will be taking the left one. Ma'am, ma'am, if you remember when you met with us last week, you signed all the paperwork. All of the information was given to you. Okay, okay. Yes, ma'am. Goodbye."

Hiro's staring at him. "What did you mean by 'taking the left one'?"

"Your aunt will be here soon."

There it is again. They shove him aside without looking him in the eye. "Are you gonna answer my question, what did you mean by—"

Wait, wait, wait. Hiro knows what he meant by that. The markings on Tadashi's legs, dotted lines and numbers and handwriting he couldn't read. He knows exactly what they meant by that, he's heard them whisper before. He's read the articles in the college newspaper, all those unknown students anxious to know how Tadashi "the Hero" Hamada is doing. Not that they really care.

Honey, Wasabi, Fred, and GoGo still visit. Hiro never says much to them. There isn't anything to say. Just "thanks for coming" and "he'd be really happy to know you came". Stupid stuff like that. For half a second, he wishes they were here. But then he goes back to thinking about the dotted lines and he can't stay here anymore.

He backs up, still staring at the nurse. "You can't do this to him. He doesn't deserve this."

"Hey, kid. It's okay. Just sit down."

"No! It's not okay!" And then he turns and runs. Glass doors slide open, the night spilling out. He pushes past people, running away from the hospital, the nurses, the doctors, and away from those dotted lines. He wants to scream or cry or say something as stupid as "ow". There's pain, a pain that he can't rate on a scale of one to ten. He'd do anything to talk to Tadashi. For a few minutes, a few seconds even.

But Tadashi's in the OR now, and there's no one else like him. Not really.

 

Here he is, the one and only Tadashi Hamada. He's been stuck in this weird series of dreams for what feels like forever. It's just a montage of death, a million different ways you can be burned alive. Oh, how fun. Sometimes he's trapped inside a burning house, banging on the bathroom door and screaming till he dies of smoke inhalation. Other times, he's in an office building or a place that looks vaguely familiar, kind of like a school? A really, really big school. But then the scene jumps and he forgets all about it. There are only so many ways you can be burned alive, roasted and toasted and cooked like a piece of fried chicken. Yeah, that's what he feels like right now, a big chicken tender.

His brain starts making shit up. Different scenarios, different ways to die. It's like reading a comic book. Panel one is framed in thick, black ink: it's the end, Tadashi's hiding in some kind of bunker. Burning alive via a bomb is pretty unique. Panel two is drawn in red: Tadashi drags himself out of the bunker, most of his skin burned, his hair completely gone. Some bunker that was, what a piece of crap. Panel three, sketched out in crazed line: Tadashi staggers across the…the nothingness. The road has exploded into a million black Lego pieces. His tears burn his cheeks. Panel four, sad, black, melting: He hasn't even walked that far. That's the reality.

In his mind, each step is a mile. He's smiles. How far has he walked? With so much blood loss, he's surprised, and kinda proud, too. But his face bleeds anyways, the tiniest cuts act like fatal wounds. It's just a bruise growing darker by the second, a gash and some blood cloaking his face. It isn't much. Just ribs aflame in cold, cold heat and legs that wobble to and fro. It's just the eyes rolling back in his skull and his knees giving out. It's just the loss of his beautiful, black hair. Oh well. It's just death. Before he hits the ground, he hears, "No, Tadashi. Don't," and then he wakes up and does it all over again.

And he can feel the blistering and the burning every single time. Everything alive, fiery. Skin turning pink, red, raw. Bubbling up, up into his eyes and nose. His nose runs from the heat, the heat climbs into his brain. His hair is singed. Singed is spelled awfully strange, isn't it? Because it's just the word sing with an ed tacked on the end.

Tadashi thinks about things like this. That's all he can do.

What is this? Some kind of dream? Is this death, is this hell? If this is hell, than the universe is just mean. Sending a guy that just burned to death straight to hell is the worst irony in the history of ironies. All he wanted to do was help people and watch Hiro become the greatest scientist the world has ever known. Now he's trapped, or dead, or both.

He can hear a faint beeping in the distance. Never close enough to fully understand, but he knows it's there. Sometimes he'll feel things, a phantom touch on his arm, his leg, his face. Sometimes he hears his name whispered into the dark.

"Tadashi."

Could this really be a dream?

He has all of infinity to answer this question, or so it seems. So he walks around in the darkness and thinks. When he's not being burned alive, he has time to sit back and unravel this mystery.

A memory surfaces. One time, he and Hiro were arrested after a bot fight was broken up by the police. Tadashi always knows where to find his brother. He made his way down the narrow alleys, the street bathed in neon light. There was Hiro, about to hit the jackpot, and then the cops pulled up before Tadashi did and everyone ran for it. Somehow they ended up in the same police car.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, knucklehead!" Tadashi tried to elbow him, but handcuffs make a lot of things difficult. "I knew you'd be here. You think I'm not gonna at least try to stop you from bot fighting?"

"Oh come on, lighten up. Bot fighting itself isn't illegal. I didn't even get my prize money. And since no money changed hands, technically no one was gambling." Hiro grinned and for a second, Tadashi almost wanted to laugh.

Instead, he stared blankly at his little brother. "Unbelievable."

"Don't say that. All I was doing was—"

"No. You're just unbelievable. I can't even look at you."

He turned towards the window, his reflection distorted by all the lights. A few seconds of silence. Hiro leaned over.

"Wait, are you seriously mad at me?"

"Yes, Hiro. I'm so angry right now. I told you, I can't even bear to look at you." And then he burst out laughing, he couldn't take it anymore.

They sat there, in the backseat of the police car, laughing and trying to elbow each other in the ribcage.

One of the cops drove them to the station. The drive was long, quiet. Hiro sat back against the seat, clicking his tongue.

"Stop that." The officer was a pair of eyes in the rearview mirror.

Hiro kept clicking his tongue.

"I told you to stop that."

Click.

"Stop—"

Click.

"That."

Click.

"Stop it!" He slammed his fist down on the dashboard. Shut up or—"

"Or what, you'll arrest me?"

Tadashi leaned over and muttered, "Enough. You've had your fun, Hiro." Then he looked up at the cop. "Sorry about him, officer. My brother's never been arrested before, he's just nervous."

Hiro raised his eyebrows. He'd been arrested before and the cop definitely wasn't making him nervous. But Tadashi knows how to handle things. He always knows what to do. So he stopped clicking his tongue and looked out the window, instead. Watching cars zip by, feeling the heat and the lights through the glass.

By the end of the drive, he was leaning against Tadashi. Maybe he was tired, maybe he really was scared. Tadashi never saw his face, he just felt the pressure against his arm. Whatever the reason, it made him happy. Knowing that he made Hiro feel safe was good enough.

That's all he's ever wanted.

He can't protect Hiro this way. This dream, this hell, whatever it is, it has to end. There must be a way out of this place. Darkness stretches out, gives him time to think. And for a brief moment, he feels a pain in his left leg.

But it's gone as soon as it comes, like it was never even there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I updated within a week. Consistency is always nice. Anyways, here's the next chapter. More questions are raised, but don't worry, things always make sense in the end. Enjoy :)

It's like he was never even at the hospital. Running through the streets, panting and brushing the tears from his eyes, Hiro wishes the world would stop. Just stop in the middle of the universe. Maybe then he could sit down and cry for once. Just cry in the middle of the street. He hasn't been able to cry since Tadashi's accident. It happened so fast. He was shoved out onto the ice, slipping and sliding all over place, without a chance to catch his breath. He was dragged through this chaos, from the steps of the university to the foot of Tadashi's bed. And he's never had a quiet moment. It's always something, a phone call, an apology, a hitch in Aunt Cass' voice as she sets three plates on the table. Even when he's sleeping, or trying to, he can't relax.

Dreams are full of fire. It's always different. Sometimes he's standing outside a burning house, listening to someone bang on the door and scream and scream and scream. Other times, he's outside an office building or a school. The university. It explodes and knocks him to the ground.

He wakes up, sweating, wondering who was inside the burning house. But he's smart, he can figure it out. No need to say the name. Hiro knows who dies every time he dreams.

Now he's running and looking over his shoulder for no reason. Lights flash, cars and motorcycles speeding by. They're blurs, nothing but smudges of color. Hiro dodges a lamppost. A guy on a skateboard. A couple walking beneath the burning lights. He's running too fast, the road suddenly going downhill. Faster, faster, tripping over his shoelaces, watching the cars and the motorcycles and the people, running, falling, toppling over himself and hitting a metal trashcan. Damnit. There he goes.

The one and only Hiro Hamada. He's beauty, he's grace, he's falling on his face. The world stops for a few seconds as he lies there, trash bags all over his body. Holy crap, that hurt. A few people have gathered around him, whispering and asking if he's all right.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

No, not really.

He says it again. "I'm fine. No, really, I'm okay."

Hands grab at his shoulders, lift him off the ground. They're people, actual people come to help him, but they're still faceless. He stares at a crack in the sidewalk as they talk and pull out their phones.

"Should we call 911? He's bleeding."

"No. Don't."

They're not listening. Fingernails press against screens and buttons, the air full of beeping and clicking that never stops. Never ever stops.

"Don't call anyone! I don't need help!" And he swings his arm without thinking, knocking a cellphone out of a pair of hands. The screen cracks.

Silence. They're staring and blinking, eye squinting in the city lights. Hiro doesn't give them time to react, he's gone. Suddenly realizing how much his knees and palms hurt. Blood drips down his shins.

They're yelling behind him. "Wait! Hey, kid! Wait!"

Too late. Hiro runs until the lights are behind them. Above, the city sputters to life and the screens are alive with advertisements. Down on the ground, in the darkness of an alleyway, there's nothing. The occasional flicker of movement. A light bulb blinking, a sound byte from a television. This place is shrouded in silence punctuated by an open door, a cracked window.

You can slow down, buddy. Hiro lets his muscles cool down. Inertia only carries him so far, then he's gasping and crouching on the pavement. There's silence, and squares of pale light, and fire escapes that climb into the sky. The moon's full, hidden behind clouds that no one can see. Hiro looks up past the crisscrossing wires and balloons. It looks so small up there, so empty and lifeless.

Though this alley is pretty lifeless, too. If he listens, he can hear voices. Low, muffled voices that don't make any sense. This is the other part of the city, the part Tadashi really likes.

They used to take walks at night, when Tadashi was trying to think of new ideas and Hiro was bored out of his mind.

"Walking helps me think." Tadashi would say it with a smile on his face, his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, that's great. You know what helps me think? Sleeping. Yeah, I could be sleeping right now but instead we're doing… this."

"Well, 'this' is gonna help me with my next project. The best ideas come at night, Hiro. Believe me. And my next project, I think it just might change the world." That smile would get even bigger, then he'd walk off, whistling and looking over his shoulder.

Hiro hates it when he gets all cryptic. "What do you mean? What are you gonna make? Tadashi… Tadashi? Okay, this is not cool. I wanna know!"

And they'd chase each other through the alleyways. Their laughter colliding like cars.

Tonight, Hiro chases himself through the alleyways. He's in a clearing now, some vacant lot with a massive warehouse on it. Silver and silent, with high windows and double doors.

Weird.

The grass is stiff beneath his sneakers. All cold and sharp, like the air and fire escapes that lead to the flat rooftops. There's a padlock on the double doors. Hiro turns it over in his hands, looks at the keyhole and the scratches on the metal. Ear pressed against the door, he listens for something, anything. Just muffled sounds, like the voices from before. He's got his whole face against the metal, pressing harder and harder until his cheekbone hurts.

The doors are too thick, there's no way he'll hear anything worthwhile. Oh, well. It's probably just an empty warehouse. Still, he memorizes its location.

It's a map inside his head. He visualizes it as he walks home. Down one alley, turn right, then left, then left again, and down another dark street that leads…

He's gone over it at least a hundred times by the time he gets to the front door. It's unlocked. Another weird thing. Aunt Cass never forgets to lock the door. At least, she never used to.

But now she waits up for Hiro. He disappears more often, goes bot fighting and who knows what else. Hiro tries to be as quiet as possible, he's halfway up the stairs when the light snaps on.

"Hiro! Oh my God!" Aunt Cass stands at the top of the staircase, the phone up to her ear. "Yes, officer, that's him. Yes, yes, everything's fine now. Thank you so much."

When she hangs up, Hiro cracks a smile. "Oh, hey, Aunt Cass."

Her eyes are narrowed. "Do you know who that was?"

"Let me guess, that was some salesman and we just won a new car?"

"It was the police, Hiro. The police! I've been on the phone with the hospital and now the police and… I just, I've been on the phone for hours. I know, you go out and sometimes I don't see you all night, but the hospital said that you ran out of there after…" Her eyes soften, the phone slipping out of her hand. "You're bleeding, look at you, you're hurt. Where have you been, Hiro?"

He shrugs. "It's nothing, I'm fine. And I was taking a walk. It helps me think."

"So you just run away, without telling anyone."

"I didn't run away. I just needed to think, okay?"

"You can't do that! You had me worried sick." She looks like she's about to cry, but doesn't. "I know this is hard for you—"

"Hard? What's hard? The fact that my brother's in a coma or that you didn't tell me he was getting his leg chopped off today?"

Aunt Cass bends down to pick up the phone, never taking her eyes off Hiro. Now she really is crying. "Hiro, I'm so sorry. I didn't know they were performing the surgery today."

"But you did know they were going to perform it eventually. Why didn't you say anything?"

Now she's shrugging. Sitting on the staircase and looking so different, so unlike her usual self. All that happiness and awkwardness that is Aunt Cass. All of it's gone. "I don't know. I guess, I just didn't want to make things any harder for you."

"Not telling me is making things harder for me! I should know about stuff like this, I have a right to know! I don't care if you're trying to protect me or whatever, Aunt Cass. He's my brother and I need to know these things."

One step at a time, he makes it up to her, to where she's crumpled on the staircase, absentmindedly touching the phone and trying not to cry.

He sits beside her. "Why don't you, I don't know, make chicken wings or something. We can eat and you can tell me about Tadashi."

She sniffs. "You want to eat?"

"Yeah, sure. I haven't really eaten in a while."

"Oh I know. Trust me, I know."

Tadashi used to say that whenever they went on a walk. "The best ideas come at night, Hiro. Trust me."

It's all his family really wants, to be trusted. So he stands up and smiles, no matter how much it hurts.

"Chicken wings?"

Aunt Cass nods. "Of course. But first we're taking care of you, your knees are all scratched up."

 

He sits on his bed, looking up at the bookshelves and the empty space. Something's missing… damnit, he left the bot at the hospital. Some doctor's probably thrown it away by now. He'll go back in the morning, maybe it's still there, propped up in the plastic chair and waiting.

"Hold still." Aunt Cass dabs at his knee with a cotton ball. It's just hydrogen peroxide. The urge to say "ow" is there, but he keeps quiet. They say nothing to each other. The cotton ball dabs, the peroxide burns, the space remains empty, and the shadow stays behind the paper screen.

When his knees are all bandaged, they go to the kitchen and Aunt Cass turns the stove on. Soon it smells like meat and bread crumbs and spicy buffalo sauce. She's back to her old self for a little while, cracking jokes and making terrible, chicken-related puns.

"Come on, Hiro. Try the extra hot ones. Don't tell me you're too chicken to try some."

"Try that sauce. If you don't, I'll be in a fowl mood."

Hiro just laughs. "You're unbelievable, Aunt Cass."

Yeah, she really is unbelievable. It's hard to believe what she's saying now. Because they're sitting at the table and talking about Tadashi.

"I got a call from the hospital last week. Apparently he had an infection in his leg, they tried to stop it with antibiotics. They tried everything. But then the doctor told me that they were running out of options. It had to be amputated. They asked me to come in, I did, and that was it." She sighs and turns a chicken bone around and around. "I didn't know the surgery was going to be today. I guess I got distracted like I always do. I'm so sorry, Hiro."

"It's fine." He stares at his plate, not sure how to feel. No one wants to say the word "amputated". No one wants to talk about chopping off legs while eating a drumstick. No one wants to do any of that. Aunt Cass has had to break the bad news before. When Hiro's parents died and Tadashi was old enough to understand. Can he really blame her for not saying anything? Can he be mad at her, this woman that makes chicken wings and forces a smile?

No. He can't.

So he says it again, "It's fine," and finishes dinner. Back in his room, he looks at the empty space on the bookshelf until he falls asleep. He's there, fully clothed and lying on top of the sheets. Getting undressed is too much work. His blue hoodie is still stuffed beneath the bed, dirty and faded and smelling like smoke. That will never go away.

He has another dream. But this time, there is no fire. No smoke, no toxic black clouds, no screaming. It's just him lying in a snow bank, a forest growing all around him. The trees rise like skyscrapers. His breath comes out in puffs of white, his mouth cold and his lips chapped.

He lies on his back in the snow. Looking up at the sky, through the tall trees with their thin branches sprawling, connecting like veins. So many highways crisscrossing in the stars. There are so few stars in this sky. Too much light pollution, maybe. But he can still make out Orion, three dot belt, arms and legs. Easiest constellation to find. Shivering in the cold, he stands up and starts to wander. A lake appears, still and silent and partially frozen. He stands there, ankle deep in the snow, looking at the clear cut constellations in the water. All angular and jutting. The teeth and nails of the universe. Millions of eyes, some blue, some green, some dark, some dead. All watching. For forever and a day. He walks out on the ice, lies down, and makes snow angels. He sighs, a puff of breath disappearing into the night air. Everything stinging and cold.

An owl flies past. The first sign of life he's seen in a while. He smiles up at it, knowing it can't see him. Even with those giant eyes all round and bulbous, it's blind to Hiro. Maybe the trees will reach up and strangle it. That would be interesting to see. Yellow eyes creep closer in the darkness. His own eyes closing. Latticework of eyelashes, the feeling of claws scratching and beaks pecking. Numb, fingers and toes burning, he falls asleep.

But wait… you can't fall asleep if you're dreaming. His eyes pop open.

"This isn't real." He shouts it into the night. "This isn't real!"

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Huh?" Hiro sits up, his body shaking. "Who said that?"

"I know it's been a while, but I'm hurt that you don't recognize my voice. I'm really hurt, little bro."

He stops shaking. "Tadashi?"

"Yeah, that's me. Glad you didn't forget about me."

And then he walks out of the darkness. Hands in his pockets, a smile on his face. Tadashi looks better than ever.

 

Hiro's looked better. Tadashi notices the circles under his eyes and the sag of his cheeks. Has the kid been eating? Just look at his fingers, how they tremble. Every time Tadashi takes a step forward, Hiro gasps.

"Tadashi? How?"

"Well, this a dream, so I guess anything's possible." In actuality, he doesn't get it, either. One moment he was walking through darkness, then he was slipping on ice and listening to someone scream.

"This isn't real! This isn't real!"

What do you know? It's Hiro. That scrawny little problem child with an IQ higher than Einstein. Tadashi's always wanted him to go far. That's why he pushed him to go to the university, that's why he encouraged him to build his microbots, that's why he took him to the school and… and… and…

What happened at the school? Now he's confused, staring at Hiro and wondering why he's crying.

"This isn't possible, you're in the hospital, you're in a coma." He's shaking his head, scooting backwards on the ice. "This isn't real, you're just a dream!"

"I guess from a scientific point of view this doesn't make any sense. But here we are, and—" He stops walking and raises his eyebrows. "Wait, I'm in a coma?"

"Yeah, you've been in one for weeks. The doctors say that you, you might not even wake up." He sniffs. "You're gonna lie there forever."

"But what happened to me?"

Hiro glares up at him. "You just had to help." Tears roll down his face, still and silent. But not really still since they're moving, curving over his cheekbones. He's a mess, a scrawny little mess that's still only fourteen.

No matter how high his IQ is, he's still a kid. He's Tadashi's little brother.

"Hiro, I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You left me. You even left your hat behind."

"My hat?" Now the he thinks about it, his hat has been missing for a while. That emptiness atop his head has been bothering him. "Yeah, you're right. It's gone."

Hiro grits his teeth. "So are you."

"No. I'm here. Tadashi is here." And he drops to his knees and hugs Hiro tight. Feeling that little body between his arms, the messy black hair and the cheeks sticky with tears.

They stay that way, holding onto each other and listening to themselves breathe. They hug until Tadashi feels sunlight on his back.

"It's time for you to wake up, Hiro."

"What about you?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. I still have to find my way out. But maybe we can see each other this way. I mean, this is really weird, this whole dream thing. I can't explain it, and I'm internally screaming right now because I don't like things I can't explain. But everything makes sense eventually. We'll figure it out. You with your big brain and me with my, uh, awesome coma abilities. We'll figure it out."

"I guess."

"No. Less guessing, more knowing. Things are gonna be okay. I promise I will do anything to help you."

Hiro gives a hollow laugh. "I'm not the one that needs help."

"That's debatable." He ruffles the unkempt hair, a small smile on his face. "Now go on. Aunt Cass will be making breakfast soon."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Then go, Hiro. It's all right, I'll be waiting for you here." Smiling, he kisses the top of Hiro's head and gently pushes him away.

Hiro walks on, constantly looking over his shoulder. Tadashi gets smaller and smaller.

He's a good kid, a really good kid. There he goes, into the sunshine. The tired, hungry, lonely genius. All alone… so, so alone. Tadashi's eyes widen.

"Hiro, wait! Listen to me! You have to activate my latest project, okay? It can help you, I know it can! All you have to do is—"

 

"What?" The alarm clock's blaring. Hiro lies on top of the sheets, fully clothed and blinking in the sunlight. Who opened his blinds? Bars of orange and yellow cover his bed. They curve across his legs, his hands, his arms. He sits up, squinting and wondering if that dream was real.

Sure, it doesn't make sense. There's no way in hell science can explain that one. But there's no harm in believing, is there? No harm at all.

There is harm in falling off your bed. Still half-asleep, he tries to slide off, but he trips over the pile of clothes and crap that covers his floor. And he topples into the paper screen, ripping it in half and hitting his head against Tadashi's bed.

For a second, he says nothing, but he can't hold it back anymore.

"Ow..."

And something starts moving, something springs to life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is pretty short. I wanted to give you all some kind of update, at least, so here it is lol. This is a Tadashi-centric chapter, and it thickens the plot a lot, so it stands pretty well on its own. I've obviously included some headcanons, like Hiro playing the piano, idk I just think it'd be adorable if he did haha.
> 
> I promise I'll have longer chapters once I finish this semester. Hope you all enjoy!

If only Tadashi would spring to life. If only his eyes would pop open and his lungs would gasp and his legs would twitch. No wait, it's singular now. His left leg is off somewhere, stuffed into a freezer or a trash compactor. Now that he thinks about, where do severed limbs go? Do hospitals keep them or throw them out? Do scientists study the cold, dead flesh?

Now he's imagining a white coat floating above his toes. What poor soul has to stare at his cracked toe nails now? Damnit, there's still polish on some of them. A few months ago, Honey Lemon painted them just for fun. A bright, neon orange. Polish is eternal, it'll be there until the day he dies. If he ever dies. Because he can't die if he's not alive and right now he's nowhere.

Not alive.

Not dead.

Just floating in limbo, the Digital Divide, the Cybernetic No-Man's-Land. Whatever he wants to call it. Today, he calls it dreamland, how could it be anything else?

Hiro was real. The messy hair, soft and spiky and smelling like Aunt Cass' fabric softener. Dumb kid must be lying in bed a lot, all wrapped up in the sheets. The oversized shorts, the red T-shirt. He was more than Hiro, he was a collection of realities. Chrome zippers and knitted fabrics and tight smiles and watery eyes. Every piece of him came together perfectly. This amazing little puzzle, this amazing little genius boy.

Tadashi wanted to hug him forever.

Never let go.

But he could never trap his brother here. Whatever this place is, it isn't safe. But it's more than darkness, Tadashi knows that now. Before he found Hiro, he was walking through a forest. Before that, a meadow full of frosted flowers. There are fragments here, bits and pieces of scattered dreams. He'll find them all. He'll figure this out.

Eventually.

He walks into a memory. Once upon a time, Hiro played the piano. It was only for a little while, when he was a scrappy kid missing his two front teeth. Aunt Cass said, "Oh come on, I bet you're a natural! You can do anything you set your mind to, Hiro!"

So he treated it like an equation. Some puzzle for him to figure out. Keys were numbers and values, notes were variables. Soon enough, little Hiro was playing as well as any master. Screw Mozart and Beethoven. Hamada was the new name in music… well, it could have been. But Hiro stopped after a few months.

"It's boring. I need something more complicated more, uh, fun. Just let me play with my robots, Aunt Cass."

Farewell, piano. It was shoved into a dusty corner and never heard from again. And then, one fine day, Tadashi walked by the locked door and heard it.

He hears it now, in dreamland. He hears it loud and clear. One foot in the snowy meadow, the other in the hallway.

When he stands outside the locked door, he closes his eyes and listens. Sound everywhere. Blades of grass bowing in the breeze, how they rustle together. Making him think of clothes in the dryer, rubbing up against each other. The sound of cicadas in summer…which makes no sense because it's the dead of winter. At least, it must be. Why else would there be snow? He blinks in the warm air. It comes suddenly, out of the blue. Sleepy butterflies circling his head. Another blink, another gasp. It's all hot at the edges of the cold. Frost quickly receding as this little patch of summer grows around him. This must be a dream. But he never dreams. As he lies there in that hospital bed, staring at nothing and everything, he tries to wake up. But he can't. He's stuck in this place. There's nothing for him here. Just darkness that goes on and on forever. So this must be an illusion that seeps into his unconscious mind. Because when he blinks again it is all gone. And the sounds are different. Cold wind through broken windows, soft notes drifting across the wood floor. Hiro must have found the piano.

Inside, Hiro is playing. Tadashi watches, squinting and wondering if this is the real Hiro. No, it can't be. This is just a memory.

But still, he walks in anyways. "I thought you quit playing the piano?"

Hiro flinches, stopping when he hears Tadashi's voice. "Oh…uh, I did."

"So why are you playing now?"

"Because I want to?"

He shrugs, leaning against the door. "It sounds nice. I'd forgotten what a piano sounds like."

A laugh that makes Tadashi shiver. "Well what does it sound like to you?"

Tadashi is motionless where he stands. Eyes closing. "If old books could talk, they would sound like that."

"Uh, thanks, I guess."

"No 'I guess'. You should say thank you, it was a compliment! Books are some of the best things on earth. And Professor Callaghan has this amazing medical humanities book called the Emperor of Maladies and—."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Some professor has some book. Blah, blah, blah…"

Sighing, Tadashi sits down. He just remembered, he went grocery shopping earlier. "I'm gonna pretend you're actually interested in what I was saying. But anyways, I got some food at the store. Just the basics, canned soup, canned tuna, canned beans—"

"And everything you could possibly stuff into a can. I get it." Hiro places his fingers on the keys, looking into the dusty ivory. There is no reflection there. "Tadashi…I need to ask you something."

"Anything, Hiro."

But he never gets to hear the question. He didn't hear it then, he won't hear it now. Memories are funny like that. You can relive them, you can listen to yourself say the same things over and over again. But you can't change anything. Not really.

Hiro was cut short by an accidental fire in the kitchen. Aunt Cass gets distracted sometimes.

This time, Hiro is cut short by a snowstorm. Whipping up from the meadow, from the thick darkness that covers everything. Tadashi feels the wind at his back, it pulls him and then he's spiraling through the air. Through memories and thoughts and ideas he's never had.

"Oh my God! What's happening!?"

It's an endless cyclone. Going around and around and around. Ice that isn't really cold. Rain that isn't really wet. Just circles and ovals and every other shape you can think of. There's a phantom pain in his left leg. It's still there when he finally lands.

Lands where?

Where the hell is he?

It kind of looks like space. At least, how he would imagine space, and this isn't a drawing or a photograph. No, this looks… real. Tangible. Dark matter bleeding between his hands, stardust in his eyes. Tadashi gasps, but there's no air here. This is all made-up, anyways. Back in reality, a machine helps him breathe. There's no need to gasp, dumbass. None of this is real, remember?

So then why does it feel real? He asks this question all the time, every waking, or un-waking, second of his life. The pressure is there against his skin, brushing past him in the darkness. And this place, this place must be real. If it's not, nothing is. Because he's never seen anything so beautiful.

"Hey."

"Huh?" Tadashi turns around. A woman stands not too far away, arms crossed. An illusion, probably. Maybe. Maybe not.

She says it again. "Hey. Who the hell are you?"

"Tada—" he stops midsentence and shrugs. "I'm just some half-dead guy in a coma."

"Okay…" She's squinting, tapping her fingers and looking confused. "Are you real? As in, a real person? Someone that exists on the outside."

"Funny, that was one of the things I was about to ask you."

"I'm real enough." She takes a step forward. "What's the other thing you were going to ask?"

"If you needed any help."

Now she's laughing. "Listen, coma guy, if you're here, then you need help, too. We all do."

Tadashi walks up to her. "You see, there's my problem. What is 'here'? Where are we? I'm assuming this is some kind of pocket dimension, or maybe a tear in space. Feels like we slipped through a wormhole or something."

His laughter is forced. So is hers. They laugh awkwardly for a few seconds. Then she goes back to squinting, looking him up and down.

"You look familiar. Did you, uh, do you go to the Technical Institute?"

"Yeah, I did. I mean, I do. If I ever wake up, I'll be going there like I used to." He keeps laughing. Now that he thinks about it, this woman looks really familiar. There's something in her eyes, her nose, her mouth.

"It's a small world, then. My father teaches there. Or maybe he doesn't, it's hard to tell time in this place. Hey, are you okay?"

Tadashi's bouncing on his feet and staring at her, wide-eyed. "That's who you are! You're Callaghan's daughter! Oh my God, you're Abigail! The one that died in the accident. Yeah, yeah, that has to be you!"

"Wait… you know my dad?"

"Yes! I'm Tadashi Hamada, one of his students." He starts pacing, still bouncing up and down like an idiot. This is almost as exciting as the day he finished Baymax. This, this right here, it has to be real. Abigail's real, and Callaghan's real, and maybe this place does exist. Maybe it is just another dimen—

"Hold on a second." Abigail grabs his wrist. "Are you saying I died? My father thinks I'm dead?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. I forgot that you didn't know. He took it really hard, though, he really loved y—"

"Okay, okay, okay. We have a lot to talk about, Tadashi Hamada. I want to know why my father thinks I'm dead and what's happening on the outside and why you're even here." She starts pulling him by the hand. Deeper into the dark matter, past clouds of stardust. She talks as they walk. "Even though you seem to already know my name, I'll formally introduce myself. I'm Abigail Callaghan, and the last thing I remember is going into the portal."


End file.
